


Getting Laid

by whatthefridge



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Don't Examine This Too Closely, Egg Laying, Knotting, M/M, Porn With Plot, Some Plot, Splorch, slight plot that is vehicle and explanation for strange smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:51:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22341331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefridge/pseuds/whatthefridge
Summary: Set in a time vaguely post-6B finale timeskip...Stiles likes having magic powers. He likes it about as much as having Derek as his boyfriend. But sometimes the two cross paths in unexpected ways.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 23
Kudos: 193





	Getting Laid

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to all the kinky fuckers over at the Eternal Sterek discord who couldn't stop talking about splorch (aka oviposition, aka phallus filling you up with eggs, aka eggpreg). At some point I was hit with this crack idea of "what if egg,, from knot" and everyone went hogwild. Someone had to write it, and I guess I'm the bastard who deserved this curse. Y'ALL WELCOME
> 
> Just like a knot this has grown to an almost unbearable size, and just like an egg it took a lot of effort to push this out. Thanks to [Jess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly) for beta-reading!
> 
> As a side-note...
> 
> Me, at a friend: "you have NO IDEA how disappointed I am that it's not easter time"  
> Friend: "easter is a state of mind. easter is whenever you post your splorch fic"
> 
> ~~I threw in so many puns into this work, but many of them are subtle. You could even say they’re,, Easter eggs,,,,~~ HAPPY EARLY EASTER YOU FUCKERS i love u

Stiles groaned at the fullness of Derek’s cock inside him. He was splayed out on their bed, his ass in the air as Derek’s strong grip on his hips kept him upright.

It took all his willpower not to touch himself or grind against the sheets. Not when he could feel Derek’s knot slowly expanding, the girth of it stretching at his hole, pulling at his rim as it moved in and out. 

The larger it got, the more it pressed against Stiles’s prostate, kneading at the gland until Stiles was hanging onto his control by a thread.

Nothing beat the thorough, mind-blowing orgasms that Derek’s knot milked out of him. But first it had to grow to an almost impossible to take size, enough to make Stiles worry every time that he’d be torn apart. Then and only then, in one final, forceful shove, would it lodge itself inside him, his over-stretched muscles contracting around it and refusing to budge. 

Stiles cried out as the first wave of come shot out of him. He could barely hear Derek’s gruff whining over the roar in his own ears, but he definitely felt the way he shook and the erratic pumps as Derek filled him up like an eclair.

Stiles knew from experience that after the initial burst, it’d be at least half an hour before the knot would deflate and let them separate. In the meantime, they could just bask in one another’s company, cuddling and grinding against each other, as a series of much smaller orgasms came and went to leave them both shaking and spent at the end of it all. 

At least, that’s how it was supposed to go. 

When Derek shifted forward to place kisses on Stiles’s back, it felt like the knot shifted with him. Stiles didn’t think much of it while his legs gave out and Derek helped lower him to the bed, manhandling him into a proper spooning position.

He didn’t begin to question things until he was ready for the next wave of orgasms and the knot felt _off_ , like it’d moved away from where it usually was, kneading his prostate, and deeper into his ass instead. 

“Derek,” he said hesitantly. “How much is the knot supposed to be able to move in there?”

“Not by a lot,” Derek replied, a hint of alarm in his voice. “Not like this.”

At least he wasn’t just imagining things. The relief of that was quickly squashed by the realization that they were both helpless to whatever was going on inside Stiles’s ass. 

Derek tried to pull out, testing the knot’s give. For a second, the knot returned to its proper place at Stiles’s P-spot. But then Derek pushed back in, and the knot moved forward with his cock, deeper than before. 

“Shit,” Derek muttered as Stiles’s anxiety spiked. 

On the bright side, a panic attack meant the knot couldn’t possibly stay locked in place. Something about increased cortisol, blood pressure, and the general unsexiness of it all. 

The knot definitely loosened as Derek huffed and grunted and whined, his hips slapping against Stiles in increasing sweatiness. But it kept going the wrong way. Worse yet, the friction from the increasingly mobile knot felt strangely good as Stiles found himself teetering towards another climax.

Stiles’s instinct made him go for his dick, and he reluctantly stroked it in the vain hope that maybe it would help. 

“Fuck!” Derek shouted, body seizing up.

There was an odd sensation as the thickness of Derek’s shaft left Stiles’s body but the heavy weight of the knot remained. The novelty of it pushed Stiles over the edge, a thin streak of come coating his palm.

“Shit,” Stiles hissed, too many conflicting emotions going through him at once. 

Derek backed away from Stiles before sitting upright, pale as snow and dripping in sweat. Derek’s cock, however, was angry red and limp, the slit distended to at least half an inch and leaking clear fluid. The place where the knot gland should have been was loose, flappy skin. 

Stiles half expected it to be gushing blood when he leaned in closer. “What the fuck?”

Derek dismissed the examination. “It’ll heal,” he said, still short on breath. “But you... It’s still inside you.”

Derek was right about that. The knot was deep in Stiles, still radiating the same warmth as though it was still attached to Derek’s cock. And Stiles swore he could feel a bump from the hefty load when he put his hand to his stomach. A deep, dark part of him wanted to savor this, but once the horniess gave way to reason, Stiles realized this wasn’t a toy. There was something foreign inside him, and he had no way of getting it out.

The adrenaline boost helped him roll out of bed and dash toward the bathroom. He was about to down some laxatives when Derek appeared out of nowhere, plucking the pills from his hands.

“What are you doing?” Derek growled.

“Flushing it out, _obviously_. Now give that back.” Stiles made a weak attempt to wrestle the pills out of Derek’s grip.

“We don’t even know what we’re dealing with here,” Derek pleaded. “What if this makes it worse?”

Stiles grumbled as he relented in the squabble. “What do you suggest then, big guy? Pop a squat on the toilet and hope for the best?” His dick twitched at the urge to push the thing out, as though there was something to enjoy in the act of exertion. 

Stiles immediately squashed that disturbing fantasy in favor of something much more direct. “Maybe you can reach in and pull it out?” 

“Are you suggesting I fist you?” Derek asked, affronted.

“Fist it _out_ ,” Stiles corrected. “Though I always hoped we could try this in a more sexy circumstance.”

“Stiles,” Derek barked. “You need a professional. You need to get to the ER.”

“And tell them what? That my boyfriend’s werewolf dick-gland detached itself and found a new home inside my ass? Come on, Derek!”

Derek was already on the move, pulling on sweatpants and a shirt. “You’ll think of something.”

Stiles slumped onto the toilet seat as he tried to think of a possible expulsion spell that wouldn’t cause _everything_ inside him to be pulled inside out like a leather purse. The last thing he wanted was to become another cautionary tale in the coven, like that time that...

Pants hit his face, distracting him from the spiral of horrible thoughts and urging him to fucking get dressed and go. So Stiles tugged them on along with the shirt Derek got for him. 

As Stiles stood this time, slowly and with no more adrenaline fueling him onward, he felt the weight of the knot in full force. He took a step forward, his legs shaking. Missing a pinky toe threw off his balance a little, but he’d learned to adjust to that. No, it was definitely the knot making him unsteady. He touched his stomach and groaned, kind of turned on at the same time.

“Are you in pain?” Derek asked, concerned at the sudden wincing.

“No... I don’t know...” Damn it, he should have been in bed and basking in his afterglow, not rushing to the ER with a giant ball of flesh implanted in his rectum. 

Derek made an impatient expression with his eyebrows before stepping into Stiles’s space and picking him up bridal style. Stiles pressed into Derek’s chest without a fight, letting himself be carried out of the apartment and placed gingerly into the car. 

The drive to the hospital involved a lot of fidgeting. Stiles’s ass was still tender from getting pounded, and he was having a difficult time telling if the knot was climbing further up or readying itself to go back down. Also there was in incessant chub that Stiles couldn’t will away. 

The ER situation was a boring wait followed by a rush of activity. By the time a doctor saw them, Stiles already had an elaborate story in his head about an all-natural, chemical-free flesh farm up in Portland when he and his boyfriend bought a buttplug that unfortunately lost its base. 

Except the X-ray came back with an image of a perfectly smooth egg, larger than from a goose but smaller than from an ostrich, as though Stiles and Derek had had some unadvised kinky fun with an entire emu-sized _egg_ so far up Stiles’s ass that he had to be put under general anesthesia for the extraction. 

Stiles was very out of it when he woke up from the procedure, with bits and pieces of his fuzzy memory needing to be supplemented by Derek the next morning. He tried not to think of what all the professionals thought about prying out this massive object and being confronted with a gush of jizz—they had to be used to weird sex stuff, right?

What he knew was he’d been wheeled out to the waiting area holding the egg—off-white and only four inches wide at most—to his chest in a blanket. He vaguely remembered being asked if he wanted to keep it, and after saying yes, kicking up a storm about keeping it warm with something more than his shirt. With the way it kept radiating heat, Stiles had been terrified of it suddenly going cold.

In the meantime, Derek had called Scott, and Scott had arrived with Malia in tow. Derek had only told them there was a minor mishap, but when Stiles started going on about birthing Eggbert, there were questions. Lots of questions. Malia had been more concerned with how the hell a human suddenly laid an egg, leading into questioning the logistics of _how_ it ended up in Stiles in the first place. But Scott had cut that train of thought off by seriously asking whether there was actually a baby inside the egg, which had suddenly looked tiny with _that_ potentiality on everyone’s minds. 

There hadn’t been any information from the ER doctor, who’d been more concerned with removing the egg than with figuring out if it was fertilized. 

Stiles just knew that, in his drugged up state, he’d been terrified that the egg came out prematurely and it needed to be kept warm. Hence the blanket. And holding it close. He’d refused to let it go. He had ended up going to bed with Derek, curled up around the egg while Derek spooned him.

The following morning, after the catch-up with Derek, Stiles found himself at Deaton’s clinic along with Scott, Malia, and Lydia. 

He refused to let anyone but Derek hold Eggbert, who was as careful as Stiles was of the potential offspring in there. This wasn’t how Stiles planned to become a parent, not in a million years, but now that this was happening--now that it was even a possibility--Stiles would be damned if he didn’t put forward his best damn effort. And Derek was the only other person who understood the gravity of the situation. He didn’t even make fun of Stiles’s choice of name, which, now that Stiles wasn’t drugged out of his mind, was a cruel thing to place upon their werewolf-human-bird-whatever, especially with Stiles’s own experiences growing up with his birth name.

They could rename Eggbert later, after the more pressing matter of figuring out how Eggbert came into existence in the first place.

Both Lydia and Deaton got in on grilling him on the peculiarities of the situation--a werewolf and a human making an egg.

Stiles finally cracked and admitted to the whole knotting fiasco, causing everyone but Malia to get squeamish, particularly over Derek’s ability to pop out something of that magnitude from his dickhole.

“Even so,” Deaton said as stoically as ever, “the fact remains that there’s _an egg_.”

“An egg that might have a baby in it,” Scott noted.

“Or a chicken,” Malia said.

Lydia gave Stiles and Derek a long look. “Makes me wonder if this is a seahorse situation.” 

“It’s definitely _not_ a seahorse situation,” Stiles stressed even while his brain leaped to the very real possibility that it might be. 

While Derek’s muscles and general broodiness made him imposing in the streets, in the sheets Derek actually preferred letting Stiles set the pace. And while Stiles had every bit of fun stuffing himself with Derek’s cock sometimes, it’d be a sin not to worship that bubble butt just as often. Derek took cock as well as he gave it, becoming impossibly gorgeous whenever Stiles got down to unraveling him. That’s what made Derek’s knotting ruts all the more intense.

Derek seemed to catch on to Stiles’s train of thought, his face lighting up pink as he growled and crossed his arms. “A seahorse situation implies an intent to incubate the egg in there. Which would _kill Stiles_.”

“Derek has a point there,” Scott said. “Regardless of _how_ the egg came to be, we need to figure out how and why so that this doesn’t happen again.”

“Are we just skipping over the fact that this makes Derek the mom?” Malia inquired.

Derek huffed as he turned his back on them all to face a wall, but not before Stiles noticed the way his cheeks and ears went even more pink.

“You’d make a great mom,” Stiles said consolingly, causing Derek to pivot and give him the biggest stink eye.

“We are _not_ having this conversation right now,” Derek ordered.

Deaton raised his hand. “Okay, before we dive even deeper into this conundrum, might I suggest giving the egg an ultrasound.”

“Would you even be able to see anything?” Lydia asked. “It’s been less than a day.”

“Considering the unusual nature of its mere existence, I wouldn’t want to take any chances.”

Derek protectively sidled up to Stiles as Stiles put Eggbert on a blanket on the metal examination table. Deaton used the same ultrasound machine he used on pregnant cats and dogs to examine the contents of it. 

After a lot of hmms and huhs, Deaton made his announcement. “I highly doubt there’s a child in there.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked tentatively, ignoring the sense of relief that came with the news. It wasn’t that he didn’t want kids, but this was their first year since defeating Monroe. They finally had a break, and Stiles deserved every second of his honeymoon phase with Derek. Kids would complicate the fuck out of that, and yet… “Maybe you didn’t look hard enough.”

“I can’t seem to even find a yolk, let alone a fetus.”

Stiles didn’t like the sound of that. He knew there was _something_ special about Eggbert, he could feel it. 

“Stiles,” Scott said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Stiles refused to be beaten. And if modern technology wasn’t going to sort it out, he knew just the people to work some magic on it.

The Apothecary was a store set up in recent years to help with access to ingredients necessary to dispatch unwanted supernaturals. The coven ran the operation, and Martha and Joanne were the head witches in charge.

Stiles called them up in advance so they’d know he was coming. The wives took him to the back room, filled to the brim with books, to inspect the egg.

“There’s definitely magic in here, lad,” Martha said, holding it up to inspect it through her thick-frame glasses.

Joanna wiggled her nose. “And it’s definitely yours.”

“Me?” Stiles flailed. “Why would I want my boyfriend to fill me with--”

Martha put up a hand. “This is exactly the sort of running of the bloody mouth that errant magic latches onto.”

“Youth.” Joanne tsked as she went over to the bookshelf, thoughtfully running her fingers across the spines of books. “You really don’t recall what set this in motion?”

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it when Martha lifted Eggbert precariously over the table. 

“Careful with it,” he complained. He didn’t know why he thought he could trust them any more than his own pack.

“Oh?” Martha taunted. “Feeling a bit edgy there? Careless spellwork leads to careless--” She let go of Eggbert. “Whoops.”

“No!”

He wasn’t fast enough. 

His heart dropped as Eggbert crashed to the ground with a squelching thunk. Rage and panic rose up to his throat, but it didn’t shatter like a normal egg. Instead, a bit of magic burst out like glitter as the egg shell disintegrated into little pieces on the ground. The yellow stuff from inside unrolled, revealing a feta and spinach omelette. 

Stiles froze as the memory of a minor argument with Derek from the other day flooded his mind. Derek had made them eggs for breakfast, but he hadn’t made enough to appease Stiles’s appetite. Stiles had gotten petulant about wanting eggs in his belly... and, yeah, that was exactly the sort of wording that magic could fuck with. 

“He remembers now,” Joanne quipped, finally choosing one of many books to come.

Stiles was sent home with a pile of them. He could bet money on Martha and Joanne knowing exactly how to end the spell themselves, but since they thought they were spoiling him by even _providing_ the properly curated resources to Stiles, he was shit out of luck.

Stiles got back to the apartment to find Derek on the couch reading a book. Stiles didn’t need werewolf senses to know Derek was still in a foul mood from the conversation at Deaton’s.

Stiles dropped his stack of books on the dining table next to his laptop before heading back to sit beside Derek. 

Derek lowered his book as Stiles thumbed the dark circles under Derek’s eyes. “You okay there?”

“I don’t know what I am. Where’s Eggbert?” 

“Well, the good news is we’ve figured out what caused this mess. And by ‘we,’ I mean my reluctant mentors. The bad news is Eggbert’s gone. It’s just an omelette in the bin now.”

Frowning, Derek said, “Is that some sort of witch euphemism?”

“No, no. Turns out I was right about the egg containing something, but that something was a corrupted wish. Remember how badly I wanted eggs the other day?”

Derek’s eyes widened.

“Yes, so, I may have, accidentally, enchanted you into producing eggs to fill me with. And now I’ve got homework to do on how to remove the curse.”

Derek looked down at the book in his hands with an expression that Stiles could only decipher as... disappointment?

Stiles slid closer to Derek, their thighs touching. “Hey. Is there a certain conversation we need to have right now?”

Derek muttered under his breath, “So there’s zero chance of a baby growing in there?”

“Yeah, no. It’s entirely food based. If anything, we’d get a free meal out of it.” The joke fell flat, so Stiles sighed and took Derek’s hand, interlocking their fingers. “Not that I wouldn’t do everything for our child if we got one. I’m just glad _this_ isn’t how it happens, you know? I’d like at least one thing in our lives to be normal.”

Derek nodded reluctantly. “I’ve always wanted my own family,” he admitted. “But you’re right, it’d be nice to do at least one thing the normal way. File some adoption papers or something.”

“Ooof, adoption? Are you sure? After everything with Jackson?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You know, _most_ adopted kids feel special for being chosen. It’s about the nurture as much as the nature.”

“And we’d rock as parents,” Stiles decided. “The best on the planet. A werewolf and a witch, what could possibly go wrong?”

Derek ignored that question. “So, the egg curse,” he said, deadpan. 

“The most difficult part about breaking a curse is knowing all the parameters,” Stiles said, excited now, because magic is always exciting. “Your dick’s gonna get fixed, and we’ll be back to sex-ready in no time. How _is_ your dick, by the way? Is the healing going okay? Are you growing a new egg-knot?”

“My dick is dick-shaped.”

“Okay, that’s promising, but we should test it, right? Just to make sure. Unless you don’t want to. Do you?”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even on a good day, I’d need more time.”

“Yeah, obviously, of course.” Knotting took a lot out of Derek, on all sorts of literal and emotional levels. “You get your rest. And I’ll go chug some RedBull. This is going to be a long night.”

Going through the tomes required an extra level of Latin that Stiles was not, absolutely _not_ , getting Lydia involved in. But what he could gather between his recent Latin lessons and whatever English passages he could find was a lot of incidental knowledge that’d be a goldmine on any other day but this one.

At some point in his distractions, Stiles ended up going through online forums about shoving random objects up one’s butt. Then he searched specifically for an egg-laying kink that he knew _had_ to exist in the depths of the world wide web.

If he ended up jacking off to alien abduction porn at three in the morning, that was between him and his hand.

Derek woke him up from his faceplant on the dining room table sometime around seven. There was even a fresh cup of coffee swapped for his empty RedBull can.

“Get anywhere?” Derek asked, putting out some cereal and milk as well.

Stiles checked his pants to make sure he hadn’t forgotten to tuck his cock back in before passing out; thankfully, he had not. “We may have a teeny, tiny problem.”

Derek’s eyebrows went up, and then down. “How tiny?”

“Countering spells requires a firm intent. And I...” Stiles yawned, rubbing his weary and crusty eyes. “Why is casting curses so much easier than breaking them? Who decided that was a good idea? And are curses even really curses at the end of the day?”

“Stiles,” Derek said flatly.

“Okay, fine. You caught me. I get off to having eggs laid inside me. There, I said it! Also, I may have used your credit card to get an egg-laying dildo. Mine is still maxed out from that dip into potions that turned you green for a week. And yet somehow, Hulk-dick didn’t do it for me the way egg-dick did.”

Derek’s silent gaze lingered on Stiles as he clearly questioned his life choices for the millionth time. In the end, apparently, he chose to stay. “Does that mean you’re _not_ reversing this spell?”

“I mean, I am. I think. I can try.” Stiles straightened up and cracked his back before turning some pages in the book laying closest to him. “But it’s a lot easier to manipulate curses than to outright remove them. For example, I can change the material of the egg. Make it slimier, with a consistency closer to silicone. That way I’d be able to eject it on my own instead of landing back in the ER. And you’d get some slack too, what with having to be the one to lay it in the first place.”

“So you’ve basically spent the night finding a way to turn this mess into a new sex thing.”

“No.” 

Derek eyed him. 

“Only part of the night!”

“And you never once considered how I’d feel about it,” Derek accused.

Stiles’s mouth dropped. “Obviously, I was going to ask you! I wasn’t going to just--why do you think I bought the sex toy? I knew you’d probably say no.”

Derek scrunched his face up and looked away.

“Wait a minute.” Stiles knew that face. “Oh my god.” He leaned closer. “Is that look what I think it is? You’re into it too, aren’t you?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Derek griped. Stiles waited patiently for Derek to finish the thought, knowing full well that Derek had trouble confessing to anything he found pleasure in. “I don’t care about the egg-laying part. It’s just the way it felt, getting stretched in there. The intensity of it.”

Stiles’s face cracked into the largest grin. “Derek Hale has a weird kink that has nothing to do with werewolf business. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m going to soak this up. And we’re totally going to try this with some medical-grade equipment. After this is all resolved. I’m going to make you come so hard.”

Derek’s ears turned beet red. “Can you focus on the here and now?”

“Well, that would be me asking if you’d like a modification on the knot situation. Do you?”

Derek glowered at Stiles, maintaining direct eye contact with him through the entire process of pouring himself cereal and milk, and then eating a heaping spoonful. By the second spoonful Stiles knew Derek wasn’t just stalling. This was pure, unadulterated spite, because sometimes Derek just loved watching Stiles squirm. 

“Fine,” Derek finally said. “We can try it.”

Stiles punched the air in victory. “You won’t regret this!” 

He scrambled to find all the ingredients necessary for the counterspell. Fortunately, most of them were already in his tiny, but growing, collection of witch stuff. He was now committed to making this so good for both of them that they wouldn’t need to entirely remove the curse at all.

The brew was ready in a couple of hours, and the final step was just getting Derek to soak his dick and balls in it for thirty minutes. 

Derek let Stiles have his way, but not without grumbling about the inconvenience. It also gave Stiles a chance to see that Derek really had healed, for the most part. The slit opening was still a little wider than when they’d begun, calling out to Stiles to _do_ something with it...

Soon... 

They had to play the waiting game first. That meant no sex for three days. Derek couldn’t fault Stiles for waking up with raging boners, not to mention the results of several wet dreams the likes of which he hadn’t had since he was fourteen. And yet, Derek suffered even moreso because he wasn’t allowed to so much as jack off. 

Stiles didn’t expect any less when, after the seventy-two hour ban finally passed, Derek cornered him in the living room as soon as Stiles got home from the grocery store. 

Stiles had just enough time to drop the bags on the floor before he was hefted over Derek’s shoulder like a sack of rice, hauled over to their bedroom, and thrown face down on the bed. He had only a few moments to pull down his pants and boxers while Derek lubed up before Derek was on him and in him.

Stiles mewled at the stretch of his insides. He’d missed the roughness of Derek taking what he wanted, how he wanted it. The pleased grunts and the breathy ‘fuck’s. Fingers digging into Stiles’s sides as Derek pressed his face into the sheets, manhandling Stiles into whatever position he needed. They’d been walking on eggshells around each other for what felt like forever, and having Derek take control like this again was especially thrilling.

“Stiles,” Derek grunted.

“Yeah?”

“I can feel it starting.”

“Fuck, that’s hot. Fill me up, Derek. Do it.”

Derek gripped Stiles’s hips harder as he thrust into him with abandon. The knot was beginning to grow again, and Stiles was extra keyed up for what would happen next. Would the modified spell work like they intended? Or would they end up exactly where they were before, except with some very disappointed witch mentors?

Stiles’s fears were quickly displaced by the sheer pleasure of feeling Derek’s knot beginning to expand inside him, pushing and pulling at his rim. It was only a matter of time before it plugged him up and squeezed an orgasm out of Stiles that had him shaking. Even Derek was trembling as he held onto Stiles, pumping his hips as much as he could in rapid spasms.

Derek rolled them to their sides. At first, it didn’t feel any different from a regular knotting. By the time a second, smaller orgasm was coaxed out of them, Stiles was concerned he’d actually removed the entire curse accidentally. 

But then Derek tensed up, clenching Stiles tighter as he groaned again, in a much different way than when he’d come, and Stiles knew he’d done it.

“Tell me what it feels like,” Stiles demanded.

“I can’t believe I still like you,” Derek said through short bursts of breath.

Stiles reached back to squeeze Derek’s ass, egging him on.

“God,” Derek exhaled. “It’s moving.”

Stiles bit his lip. He could feel the shift away from his prostate, bit by bit. “Good. Don’t spare the details.”

Derek whined. “It’s not shooting out of me like before. I don’t know how long this’ll take.”

“That’s okay. I can wait.”

The egg took its sweet time travelling through Derek’s cock, about as long as a regular knot stayed inflated. Derek buried his nose in Stiles’s neck, his arms locked around Stiles in a stronghold as his hips kept moving in small pumps. 

There was a distinctly labored yowl as Derek finally laid the egg, in what had to be an orgasm so intense that Derek’s come pushed the egg even further in. The weight of it settled in Stiles in a familiar way.

“Fuck,” Derek said at the same time that Stiles gasped out, “Oh, wow.”

Derek pulled out with a wet slurp as he rolled onto his back. His half-hard cock was glistening, come still dribbling out of the stretched-out slit, and Stiles immediately slid over so he could put his mouth on it.

“Stiles,” Derek gasped as Stiles stuck his tongue into the widened slit, gently probing it. 

Stiles’s own erection wasn’t subsiding anytime soon. He was so full, he didn’t know what to do with it. Jerking off didn’t feel like it would help. He needed more than that.

Derek had to be overly sensitive by now, but instead of pushing Stiles away, he ran his fingers through Stiles’s hair, muttering profanities as Stiles suckled him until his remaining half-chub went down.

Stiles moaned when he started to feel the weight of the egg shifting inside him, moving _down_. He began wriggling out of his sweaty, come-drenched pants and boxers, still twisted up around his legs. Derek had to help in the end.

“How are you doing this?” he asked, breathless with anticipation.

“Not on the toilet, that’s for sure.” 

Stiles crawled up on the sheets, trying to think of a position that he could comfortably take. Even though the egg was moving in the right direction, he still needed a good angle to lay it.

Derek sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for Stiles to decide. But Stiles didn’t want to just put on a show, not when Derek was right there. Derek perked a brow as Stiles straddled him.

“Co-op mode,” Stiles declared.

He used Derek’s shoulders as leverage as he spread his thighs farther apart. Derek’s pupils dilated, and he grabbed the back of Stiles’s neck with one hand, kissing him vigorously while his other hand moved farther down, gripping his ass cheek and spreading it open more.

The egg was pushing its way out one way or another, and Stiles rocked on his knees, moaning against Derek’s lips, as he was taken for the ride. He had no idea what he was doing besides _pushing_ , but he was so turned on he couldn’t care less. Slime and come started leaking down his thighs as the thickness of the egg teased his prostate.

“Fuck,” he whined, the urge to expel the egg growing to unbearable levels. “It’s happening!”

“Do it,” Derek demanded in his ear. His fingers roamed closer to Stiles’s hole, prying it apart. “Lay it.”

A high-pitched cry left Stiles as he surrendered to that final heave, the moist egg dropping to the sheets between Derek’s legs, followed by a gush of Derek’s come. His spine stiffened and head tilted back with a spasm in his ass. His balls had nothing else to give as one final dry orgasm shot pleasure all the way up his body. 

Stiles rested his sweaty forehead on Derek’s shoulder when it was over. Derek’s firm body was the only thing keeping him from dropping sideways on the bed. Blearily, he remembered the groceries dropped on the entryway floor; they would have to wait a little longer.

Derek used the hand that had been on Stiles’s neck to reach behind Stiles and pluck the egg up from the sheets, inspecting it closely. He gave it a firm squeeze and nodded in what seemed like approval.

Stiles grinned. “Nice, huh?”

Derek peered up at Stiles, distracted from his scrutiny. “What are we doing with this now?”

“I dunno.” Stiles flapped his hand in the general direction of the bed where they should totally cuddle up and take one long-ass-deserved nap. “Think later.”

Derek pressed his lips tight, still not convinced. “Just seems like a lot of effort for one small thing.”

Stiles didn’t have the thinking strength for this right now. It was fun, and if Derek wanted to do it again, he was all for it. “We can always make more. We can make a whole _nest_ of sex eggs for you, if you want, mama Der.”

Derek growled in a way that told Stiles he was more exasperated than anything. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Stiles grinned at him, lazy and satisfied. “I generally have you to help me. But you know what? I’m kind of getting into this greedy streak of yours.”

**Author's Note:**

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